The motel photographs told a similar story. Once Silas traced them properly. The man in the photo wasn't a stranger Naomi had met. He was an actor. Hired through a small staffing agency two counties over. The booking had been paid for with a prepaid card. The card had been bought with cash at a gas station. A security camera caught the buyer's face clearly. Paige Winslow, again.
Silas printed a still frame from that footage and set it on the desk between them. Everett stared at it for a long time without saying anything. The date stamp in the corner matched exactly, down to the minute. It lined up with the day the photographs arrived at his office. "She planned this months in advance," Everett finally said. "Longer than that," Silas said. "Based on everything else I've found."
The brooch was the simplest piece of all. Once Silas knew where to look. Paige had access to the house during a dinner party. It happened three weeks before the brooch vanished. Security footage from that night still sat on an old server. It showed her near the safe. Alone. For exactly ninety seconds. While everyone else sat in the dining room.
